


i didn't mean that in an existential way

by thefudge



Series: changing the narrative [3]
Category: Veep
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M, May/December Relationship, Office Romance, Older Man/Younger Woman, third installment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4x04. Selina and her team are visiting Tehran. Kent and Catherine are left to their own devices at the White House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i didn't mean that in an existential way

Someone has drawn a golden star on her ankle cast. It looks amateurish. Not that there is an expert way to draw stars on plaster, but that's the hand of a child. 

The man helping her out of the elevator would be Jason. He looks old enough to be the controversial boyfriend. Kent sizes him up at a glance, more out of habit than anything. It's a practice he has refined over the years; you can't survive in the political backstage of DC if you aren't ready to determine, in roughly ten seconds, whether the person standing in front of you has the potential to benefit or finish your career.  

Jason is neither. He's one of those water-treading lobbyists. Not going up, not going down. He must have only taken the elevator on Catherine's account. 

"I'm fine, I swear. You don't have to walk me," she insists into his shoulder, but her boyfriend clings to her like seaweed. 

Kent purses his lips. It's obvious that Jason is not exhibiting excessive concern out of affection. His head is raised, his ears are perked. He's smelling the sweet, sweet grass of the White House. And he doesn't want to leave. 

"Jason, I said I'm fine, I'm not a kid." Catherine looks irritated, although it's hard to determine with her. She's always on the verge of biting into a particularly ripe grapefruit. 

Kent decides to step in and unburden the both of them. He is good at defusing tension. 

"Hello. Fine morning. I'll take it from here, if you don't mind."

They're both startled by the brusque intrusion, but Catherine looks relieved to see him. 

"Oh, hi -"

"I _am_ partially to blame for the FDOTUS' injury," Kent proceeds bluntly, taking hold of her other arm. Sometimes it's good to dive right in. "I should be the one to help her."

"Cathy, didn't you say you tripped?" Jason asks, confounded. 

Kent cringes at the abbreviation. The letter "y", when applied to any name in the history of names, is simply grotesque. What if someone ever called him _Kenty_? He shudders.

"I did. Kent, I mean Mr. Davison, is only being polite."

"Oh, no, I was the one who advised Ms. Meyer to attend the annual White House Easter Egg Roll. I feel responsible for that sprain."

The three stare at each other for an uncomfortable stretch of time. Kent _is_ usually good at defusing tension. This must be one of those inexplicable flukes. 

It's finally Catherine who clears her throat.

"Jason, this is Kent Davison, Mom's senior strategist. He's a very important part of the Presidential staff."

"Oh, of course I've heard of you. Jason Dietrich, lobbyist for General Motors and others." 

"GM? That's impressive."

The two men shake hands awkwardly. Catherine is still straggled between them.

"So, I'll see you tonight, right?" she aims this at Jason, trying to disentangle herself from him. 

It takes some time for Jason to make his exit. He slips Kent a few more names, a few more clients. And he smiles in that casually undermining way, as if one's resume comes up organically in every conversation. But finally, the elevator doors clinch behind him. He can't say he's sad to see him go. A man like that has no use in a place like this, and certainly not in the President's inner circle. 

"Are you jealous?"

Kent's head snaps back to Catherine. 

"What?" His tone is sharp, maybe sharper than advisable. He really doesn't like being caught off-guard, especially with unprofessional questions. His mouth, almost against his will, sets into a hard line.

Catherine stammers a bit. "You know, Tehran? You didn't get to go."

"Oh." His shoulders relax. He feels remorse, briefly, for doubting her intentions. "No, I didn't get to go. But I am quite all right about that. I didn't want to, anyway."

It's not a lie. Iran is not necessarily an item on bucket list. Nor is spending time in Air Force One, playing verbal footsie with a victorious Selina Meyer. There's no need for another lapdog in her entourage to pontificate on her efforts to bring about world peace.

"The White House's so quiet," Catherine comments as he leads her down the hallway to his office. In lieu of POTUS, FDOTUS has to take care of some public appearances. Not an easy job, considering her latest stunt at the Easter Egg Roll. The public has been open to rebellious presidential offspring in the past, but this one wears an ankle cast with a golden star on it. She's neither an offender, nor an innocent.

"Who drew the star?" 

Catherine smiles a big, toothy smile. Kent realizes he has never seen her smile properly. Always the grapefruit. "My nanny's grand-daughter."

"Your _nanny_? Aren't you a little old for -"

"No, she's family."

The way she says family is warm and isolating. She will never speak like that about her mother. He's not exactly saddened. Some people deserve exclusion. Like Jason Dietrich, perhaps. 

* * *

 

The White House really is quiet. Although the hum of office drones goes uninterrupted, something is missing. The executives have left the keys to the smaller animals and now everyone is staring boredly at the ceiling until Selina comes back. Kent has seen the movies. The _Risky Business_ 'es, the _Dazed and Confused_ 's, the _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_ 's. No one is trying to live a little. It's the same cloister of mouthpieces. You'd think Meyer's absence would cheer people.

Only Catherine is more at ease.

She doesn't sound that bitter when she tells him, in the car, "They'll never like me, Kent."

In Mike's absence, he accompanied her on two interviews, and all the reporters wanted to know the same thing. What would drive the FDOTUS to yell profanities at such a benign event? A violent streak? A personal drama in her life? The pressure of everyday existence? Is she depressed? Does she have a history with children? So far, none of her projects have made any progress. The anti-bullying campaign? How is that going, Ms. Meyer?

"They never liked me either, if it makes you feel better," he says, looking out the window at the empty streets. One good thing about the presidential procession is beautiful, empty streets. There's something poetic about no throngs, no traffic, no wheels. Just the cool road, stretching endless. You could almost pretend humanity has taken a day off and every person with a functioning vehicle just decided not to, today. 

He realizes a few moments later she's staring at him.

"I didn't mean that in an existential way," he clarifies, brushing his knuckles. "The good news is, likability, though fluctuating, is an outside factor that can be curbed. Changing the narrative, remember? There are persuasive methods we can use to defer...unfavorable opinions. So far, we've tried it the honest way. But I believe we should move on to the next stage."

"The next stage?" she echoes, interested despite her reluctance. She's leaning forward, like they're talking conspiracies. 

"I've got a few ideas. Some good set pieces. You won't even have to be present," he boasts, still contemplating that empty road. But watching her too, from the corner of his eye. 

"That...that sounds great, actually. I love being absent."

She offers him another one of those rare smiles. Maybe not so rare, since this is her second one today. But they do wonders to her face. Only when they are genuine, though. He has seen her smile at the press and her mother and the staff. It's nothing short of a grimace. 

Luckily, the White House is quiet and dull. So, when they find themselves inside again, her face doesn't curl into itself, and her expression remains slack. She is using his arm for support as she hobbles into the West Sitting Hall. It must be her good mood, because in the next moment she asks,

"Hey, would you like to have lunch?" 

* * *

 

"This is a kind of thank-you for your efforts," she mumbles as they sit down in the President's personal kitchen. Normally, access here is restricted, but Catherine did not feel like going down to the cafeteria, so this will do just fine. It's her favorite place to eat, she says, mainly because it's small and sparsely decorated. Kent tends to agree, but that isn't to say he approves of the location. Catherine is pretty firm in her demands sometimes. A Meyer, through and through.

"A thank you? What I told your boyfriend stands. I feel responsible for the Easter Egg Roll fiasco."

"Well...maybe don't call it a fiasco. Bad enough everyone else is."

Kent nods benevolently. He's trying a smile too, something friendly. But it just doesn't feel right. They're sitting across from each other, alone, in a remote, vaguely domestic room. There's something eerie about white linen and wood. He doesn't know what to say. He's absurdly reminded of Nixon and his random little night-caps. Was this the same kitchen? He thinks so. 

"Mom won't even mention it out of rage," she continues, ignorant of his discomfort. "She's still sort of frosty. I don't think she's really upset with me. More like she enjoys getting riled up, you know?"

"I do. She'll come around."

"Actually, it's fine if she doesn't. I don't like the extra attention I've been getting from her lately."

Kent can't do small talk, although he's pretty sure Catherine can't either. His reply has all the right intentions behind it, but it still comes off rude. "I thought you are a person who needs more attention."

Catherine pauses the fork to her mouth. "Really? I...um..."

"Because you are consistently getting ignored and that's not exactly constructive for a young woman," he amends quickly, brows furrowed, eyes lowered into his soup. 

"...wait, so if I were a guy it would be okay?"

"No. No. That's not what I -"

"I got your meaning. I'm pretty self-sufficient, actually."

"Well, yes, but..."

"I won't fall apart if they don't have time for me, I promise." Her blush is enough to tell him he's offended her in some personal way, yet she is the one extrapolating things. He was trying to be empathetic to her problems. She is too sensitive for her own good, she should toughen up. But...that's what he's here for. Isn't he?

"I'm sorry. I don't think that you would."

"It's okay. I overreacted."

He wants to say more, but she brushes off the subject entirely and asks him about the campaign instead. So he's forced to acquiesce and talk about the new development in #Meyerfor2016. 

She's taking in everything he is saying with rapt attention. 

"I really hope she gets re-elected. Well, _elected_ , I guess. It's not like we're here thanks to her popularity," she says, scratching at her arm self-consciously. 

"You want her to get an actual mandate?"

"Yeah. Why does that surprise you?"

Kent shrugs. "I remember you were not pleased with the articles on your role model potential."

"I'm still pissed about that, and I expect to read more of those in the future, but if Mom loses, they'll only get worse. I don't want to leave this place defeated."

He sits up a bit straighter at that. He watches the way she eats her ice cream. She takes big gulps, like she's famished, even though she's had two courses already.

Strange, he never thought Catherine would say something like that. Those are the words of a shark, not a frightened deer. And as far as zoological comparisons go, she has always reminded him of Bambi, or whoever the female version of that was in the animated movie. Bambi's cousin? 

She smiles conspiratorially. Her third today, he counts. "Mom would never let me eat this. She has the staff watching me on the clock. So, don't tell."

There's no request there, it's a demand.

Kent makes sure she gets a second helping. 

* * *

 

"I just don't understand why they won't fly. They make it look so easy in the movies."

"That's because your planes are not shaped for aeronautics."

"I think they look okay, for someone who didn't go to flight school."

"You don't have to go to flight school - look, it's fairly simple."

Kent takes the paper plane from her hand, unfolds it, folds it again, this time with more dexterity. Catherine watches amused. The print is still visible on the wings, but no one will miss these drafts. Smarter to make use of them for some "light" entertainment. It's not a very good pun, but Kent chuckles anyway. She's discovering he really likes word play. 

When he launches the plane into the air, it flies all the way to the door. 

Catherine makes a motion to go catch it, but she wobbles on her feet and almost stumbles. She hisses when the pain hits her ankle. Kent is at her side in a moment. He holds her up by the waist.

"Careful. You're not in a position to run."

"Yeah, but what if that plane lands outside your office and some classified information gets leaked?"

"Not my job. Mike will handle that."

"Mike?" she laughs. "We're doomed."

He still has one hand around her waist. "I wouldn't underestimate him. He's got us out of hot waters before."

"You mean you and Amy and Ben have. Because you're the only ones getting shit done."

Kent lowers her into a chair. "What is this propensity of yours for bad language?"

Catherine shrugs. "Mom hates it when I do it."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"Hey, don't judge. I'm sure you have someone like that in your life." He wants to think of Sue, and he does think of Sue, but ultimately, he can't say he'd ever want to spite her. He simply wants to get past the ridiculous sting of their abrupt break-up.

"Well, we should get back to work."

When he steps out to retrieve the paper plane, someone has taken it already. Probably threw it in the trash. But Catherine shakes her head. "The secrets are out. We're doomed."

He thinks, _this is pleasant_.

* * *

 

They spent a whole day in the White House, together. But it's winding down to seven o'clock and he should be heading home. She should be meeting up with Jason soon. 

"It's been fun," she tells him, holding a hand to her mouth to stop a yawn. "Boring, but fun."

"That's a bit of a contradiction."

"It's usually _just_ boring," she clarifies.

"Have any good plans for the evening?" he asks as he's checking out his coat from the wardrobe room.

"Jason's taking me to this party at his friend's firm."

"Taking you to work, then?"

"Something like that. I don't mind."

She hands him the scarf herself. He murmurs a thank you. 

"It's fine you don't mind. But maybe you should."

"Why?"

Kent faces her directly. "It's not good for you to be seen at lobbying events."

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Don't start. We'll talk about that during office hours."

"Let me be straight with you, then, since this is off the record. Jason is a sore thumb on your image. No, hear me out. He's the reason you started vaping. He's the one taking you to questionable meetings and parties where he gets to introduce you as the FDOTUS. Am I wrong or right?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you should break up with him."

" _Wow_ , that's a bit much."

"I don't think so. I think it's the right move," he says, a bit like he's out of breath. Could be just the fact that he's warming up in his coat. 

Catherine is quiet for a moment and her hands have somehow found the threadbare edges of his scarf. She plays with them absently.

"I'd have to be stupid to expect every guy I date _not_ to use my status, Kent."

He clasps her wrist gently. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." She removes her hand. "You're not sorry."

He doesn't have it in him to disagree, so he just lets her go. They say good night, and Catherine, to her credit, doesn't sound like she's mad at him, but he expects the cold shoulder from her tomorrow. 

* * *

 

He immerses himself into his work for a few days, and that is why he hears the news last. Fatefully, it is Sue who informs him placidly that Catherine has broken up with Jason.

Kent has promised they would move on to the next stage. So he makes a few calls, employs some of Mike's contacts too. The story will be that FDOTUS removed a toxic person from her life because, forget anti-bullying. Anti- _abuse_ is what she's all about. For all the women in America, and for herself.

He's quite pleased with the arrangement. He can't say why, but he even smiles when he greets "Madam President" back from her trip. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this is heading into AU territory, although of course, the main events of the show are kept intact. Thanks for reading!


End file.
